Page 39 of You Had Me at Hello World
“They have a flair for the dramatic,” somebody nearby grumbles. “What’s wrong with sending out a text blast?”
Someone else shrieks loud enough that it echoes through the lobby. I can’t tell if it’s a happy shriek or a horrified shriek. A girlstaggers away, shoulders heaving with sobs. My stomach roils.
Obi comes up to us and throws an arm around Khoi’s shoulder. “Astor, you bastard.”
Khoi seems bewildered. “Huh?”
“You didn’t see, man? You got number one!”
“You’re serious?”
“As serious as the brightest star in the night sky.” Obi’s mouth twitches. “Get it? Sirius?”
I’m too keyed up to even muster a pity laugh at the pun. Somehow the news about Khoi getting first makes me feel worse, not better, even though I should be doing mental cartwheels. This is amazing for our chances at winning.
But if I didn’t do okayish, it’ll be obvious I’m dragging the team down.
Khoi glances at me. “What about Char?”
“Oh, uh… didn’t check. But I’m sure you did well too,” Obi adds quickly.
The crowd has thinned, so I take the opportunity to push through to the front. I start reading names from the bottom-up. With relief, I see that I’m not dead last. The first name I recognize is Aisha Chadha, ranked #92, which makes sense given that she bailed halfway through the exam. Haru Watanabe landed at #71—impressive for someone whose bloodstream is mostly THC.
And then it’s me. Charise (Char) Tang, #24.
I exhale.
Number twenty-four. That’s top quartile, just barely. Sure, it isn’t earth-shattering. Nothing to write home about (hypothetically—the idea of penning a letter to Michael or Olive about this is freaking hilarious). But it’s respectable. Decent. It means I could still come through with the win as long as I commit to the grind.
Out of curiosity, I peep the rest of the rankings. The only girl who did better than me is Jenni Wheeler, #21. The top twenty names is a total sausage fest. There’s Obi Udechukwu, #10. Diego Rodriguez, the competitive programming TikToker, is #4.
And Khoi Anh (Astor), of course, at #1. Huh. I wonder if Anh is a middle name or a last name. He hasn’t mentioned it before. I already knew he was Vietnamese, of course.
There’s an asterisk next to his name noting that he also got a perfect score. Of course.
As fawning kids swarm him, I hang back in the shadows.
There’s no rational reason to be anything other than hyped for him. I shouldn’t be shook. I should feel lucky that he even wants to work with me.
I don’t know why it feels like a metal claw has reached into my chest and squeezed tight.
I need to do something. Something to prove that I’m contributing to the team too. But what? Khoi has the money, and clearly the brains. I guess I can be the funny one. The personality hire.
I remember Stella on the yacht babbling about how she gota recommendation letter from one of those rich guys. Maybe I could find a mentor too.
A name floats up. The obvious name. The big one.
Usually, I’d hesitate. It’s stupid. He’s not going to respond. I shouldn’t even bother.
But I did well on the first checkpoint. I’m working with Khoi. And I’m tired of letting the world tell me I don’t deserve anything good for myself. I’m tired of believing it.
I lean against the wall and unlock my phone.
Ten minutes later, I send an email to Edvin Nilsen.
When Khoi and I sit down for dinner, I immediately sense that the vibes are off. Kids are whispering, glancing over. I look down to check if there’s something on my shirt. No, it’s just a Snorlax graphic.
Khoi doesn’t seem to notice anything. “Okay, so I started this Notion page for our project. I’ll add you.”
